Invitation
by trufflemores
Summary: Kid!Klaine. Seven-year-old Blaine is very excited for his first sleepover with (seven-going-on-eight-year-old) Kurt, until nerves strike and then it takes a bit of encouragement before he warms up to the idea again. Pre-Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

Blaine had been looking forward to his sleepover with Kurt all week.

Any excuse to spend time with Kurt was a good one, but he also enjoyed the simple pleasure of being at the Hummels' house. It was always warm and inviting, everything from the plump pillows on the couches to the fresh baked goods in the kitchen encouraging him to make himself comfortable. He liked his own couches and his mama's cooking, of course, but the novelty of _Kurt's _couch pillows and _Kurt's _cookies was irresistibly sweet.

By the time he was bundled up and standing outside on the snowy stoop, his father's hand on his shoulder as he reached out to ring the doorbell, Blaine was all but wriggling with excitement, hitching his backpack a little higher over his shoulder as he waited.

Kurt's dad answered the door, exchanging smiles and handshakes with Blaine's father in a sort of polite adult way before stepping aside to let Blaine enter the room.

It was even warmer than usual with a fire crackling in the fireplace and gingerbread cookies in the oven, Blaine's eyelids sliding shut in pleasure at the smell. He loved coming home and kicking off his shoes before curling up on the couch with his mama as she listened to him read, instructing him when needed and letting him read at his own pace unaided whenever possible, but the Hummels' house always made him feel like he was already home before he even announced his presence. He didn't need to be acknowledged to feel welcome, didn't need to be actively learning to feel accomplished. He was already wanted, and it was good to be accepted so easily by strangers, even if it was just Kurt's family.

Still, the excitement that he'd felt as soon as they'd made plans to sleepover had already begun fading into nervousness as he scanned the lower floor for Kurt. He bumped – almost literally – into Kurt's mom as she finished dusting off her hands on an apron. Without needing to ask, she redirected him upstairs.

Clinging to one of his backpack straps fiercely to keep his uncertainty in check, he hurried up the steps just as Kurt's dad finished talking with _Blaine's _father and shut the door behind him with a parting good-bye.

Blaine tapped on Kurt's door once to get his attention. "Kurt?" he asked, rocking back on his heels a little when he didn't receive a response. Again, he said, "Kurt?" and tapped the door.

Unsure how to proceed, Blaine was spared the choice between a skittish retreat downstairs to where Kurt's parents were and a possibly brash decision to push the door open uninvited when the door swung open of its own accord, revealing a slightly flustered but smiling Kurt.

"You're here!" he exclaimed, throwing himself at Blaine in a hug that almost tipped him over with the weight of the backpack pulling him down. Thankfully Kurt helped him right himself when he wobbled dangerously, tugging him inside his room without prompting. "Quick, quick, I got a new bow tie! You have to see it; you'll love it."

Blaine let Kurt take the lead gratefully, setting his bag at the foot of the bed before sitting on the edge and watching Kurt pick through his drawers until he found the one that he was looking for. "Look," he said, and then, holding the blue bow tie up to Blaine's neck before he could so much as blink, declared, "it's perfect."

Blaine's ears turned pink as he folded his hands on his lap nervously. "Bow ties are for dinner parties," he reminded Kurt. "We're not going to a dinner party. Are we?" The tingly-nervous feeling in his stomach grew even worse at the thought; he wasn't dressed for something so fancy, and he didn't know if Kurt's parents had the same rules as _his _parents at such occasions.

Thankfully, Kurt shook his head, sitting on the bed beside him and urging him to shift around until they were sitting crisscross in front of each other, knees almost touching. "Let me try it. I like your shirt," he added, unlacing the bow tie and draping it over his neck, tongue caught between his teeth as he set to work.

"Oh. Thank you," Blaine said. Glancing down at his Captain America shirt – earning a quick "Don't move!" from Kurt – he froze and asked, "Do you like superheroes?"

"Uh huh," Kurt grunted, still focusing most of his attention on the bow tie as he looped it carefully around.

Blaine decided not to interrupt him anymore as he finished lacing it up, tugging it just tight enough to rest at Blaine's collar without choking him.

"I like it," he said. "Let's try another one. I like when your hair's more floppy like this." He reached up to tug on a curl, making Blaine's entire face blush red before he danced away to get more bow ties.

Truth be told, Blaine had wanted to gel it down like he always did, but he knew that it would be difficult to wash out later and he didn't know exactly how much to wear around Kurt without appearing silly. He still felt silly and self-conscious without _any _hair gel, but his mama had assured him that he looked good, _sweet even, darling, _and that was enough for him to decide against putting any product in his hair.

At any rate, Kurt seemed delighted, chattering away about his Christmas plans while Blaine warmed up to the conversation and added in his own comments. He laughed at the mentions of sillier gifts that Kurt's dad had teasingly threatened to give him and talked about Cooper's plans to capture Santa.

It was an easy way to pass the time, wrinkling his nose at the wilder choices that Kurt picked out for him and obediently sitting still to let him loop the ones that he liked into place. Even though Blaine's were reserved for special occasions, Kurt had almost double the number of bow ties that he did, surprising him. He liked the attention, only hesitating a moment at the suggestion that they could paint his nails to match the bow tie before shrugging and letting Kurt haul him off to his parents' room. (And oh, how bold Kurt was; Blaine would never dare to enter his parents' room so boldly without their permission.)

That was where Kurt's mom found them a time later, bearing a tray of warm milk and gingerbread cookies to sweeten the deal as she ushered them out of the room, Blaine's nails four-fifths complete in a bowtie-matching shade of light blue.

Kurt snickered over his own handiwork as they nibbled on cookies and flipped through his latest sketchbook, Blaine suggesting new color patterns that he could add to make the pages even more exciting to look at. Unmoved, Kurt swore by his own designs, insisting that Blaine needed to read more fashion magazines to truly appreciate fine art, as Kurt called it.

Amused, Blaine let his chin rest on Kurt's shoulder as he flipped through the book, yawning just as they reached the end and pulling back so he could rub his eyes. Kurt's dad chose that moment to reappear at the doorway, reminding them to settle down for bed soon.

So they freshened up in the bathroom and switched into their pajamas, Kurt sliding underneath the covers of his bed and beckoning Blaine to do the same before switching off the light, his sketchbook and bowties tucked safely away.

The silence was loud and Blaine couldn't seem to shut it out as he stared at the ceiling, waiting for the sleep that had seemed seconds away to return to him. The longer he waited, the less comfortable he felt. It wasn't his bed; it was Kurt's bed, and back at home _his_ bed was empty and his parents were alone with Cooper, and that wasn't right, either.

"Shh," Kurt said, startling him out of his thoughts as he reached across the space between them and squeezed Blaine's hand. "You're thinking too loud. I can't sleep."

"Sorry," Blaine whispered. Then: "How can you hear me thinking?"

"You're loud," Kurt said without explanation, scooting closer so he could hug him and rest his cheek on Blaine's chest. "We could try this?" he offered.

Already, Blaine felt better knowing that Kurt was nearby, tucking his own arm around Kurt's back and giving it a little squeeze. "Okay," he said quietly.

It wasn't until he felt Kurt's breathing out that his own eyelids slid shut, his partially painted fingers curling around Kurt's shirt, clinging to it.

Knowing that Kurt was there to fend off any monsters that might haunt him outside the safety of his own bedroom, he relaxed, slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep at his side.

As far as sleepovers went, it was the best one he'd ever had, needless worrying and all.


End file.
